


Road Trip with Uncle Mozzie

by tjs_whatnot



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:25:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El and Mozzie share a mutual enjoyment for movies and road trip shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Trip with Uncle Mozzie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> Makes many illusions to National Lampoon's Vacation series of movies. While you don't need to have seen ALL of them to still enjoy the story, a rudimentary understanding of canon is probably necessary. Sorry.

Mozzie whistled a jaunty tune as he loaded Mrs. Suit’s overnight bag into the back of his Citroën 2CV and started back into the house to retrieve his travel companion for the weekend. She met him at the door with yet another bag.

“The family truckster is all gassed up and ready to go,” he announced, taking her bag as he gave her his arm. She patted it and they walked to the car, where he opened her side, waited for her to slide in, and then shut it behind her.

“You know, I wasn’t thrilled when Peter suggested that I wasn’t capable of antiquing on my own, I mean really, I’m not even that far along. But, I’m actually glad he won in the end. Glad I let him.”

Mozzie smiled and started up the car. “Me too. It’s been _ages_ since I’ve crossed the state line. We’ll be back tomorrow evening with a whole nursery set for you, and a new trinket or two for me.”

El gave him the side-eye. “These are legitimate, reputable businesses we’re visiting, yes?”

Mozzie laughed. “Of course. As legitimate and reputable as any business that deals in cash-only exchanges can be.” When she gave him that look again, he shrugged. “Come on, you know the antique business. Tell me it’s not a bit shady.”

“I concede your point.”

They made their way to the East Side Highway, Mozzie tapping the steering wheel to an upbeat. 

“Look at you,” El said with a wide grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so animated.”

“Me? Animated?” he asked, as if scandalized, but the illusion was tainted by his inability to stop smiling. “I can’t help it, I love driving. We don’t get a lot of chance to do it here in the city.”

“What do you mean? You drive a cab at least once a week. That seems like more than enough driving for me. I’ll take the subway over New York City traffic any day.”

He waved the comment away. “That’s not driving; that’s stopping and starting. You can’t really do any _driving_ in Manhattan and its boroughs. For that, you need to get out of the city. As much as I hate not being in New York, I do love driving out of it. It’s a conundrum.” 

“You, Mozz, are a conundrum.”

He bowed his head. “I concede your point.”

They were on the turnpike before El recognized the song that Mozzie had been humming and, with a laugh, began to sing along.

_”I found out long ago, whoa, oh, oh, ohhhh  
it’s a long way down the holiday road, whoa, oh, oh, ohhh.”_

Then they both sang together at the top of their lungs:

_”Holiday Ro-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-d  
Holiday Ro-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-d.”_

They finished as much of the song as they could, skipping lines that they’d both forgotten and laughing as they did.

“I love that movie,” El said with a sigh.

“Me too. I always wanted to be a Griswold.”

El looked at him for a moment. “Really? Even after Christmas Vacation?”

“Especially after that. It was the Vegas one that broke me of it.”

Her smile then was a little sadder. “What about the Griswolds made you want to be one?”

He shrugged. “Most of the time, I imagined my parents being super spies or contract killers, you know, fun things like that…”

El held her tongue. He continued, “But from time to time I liked to imagine what it would be like to be in a family like that. I mean, being stuck in a car with them, wanting to kill everyone, but also loving them so much, ya know?” he finished with another shrug. “I guess when you don’t have _any_ family you’ll take anything, even the very dysfunctional and whackadoodle.”

“Well, I know I’m no Audrey, but you can be my Rusty anytime, just as long as you don’t give me any Wet-Willies when I’m asleep.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

“I’m serious. I’m always up for a road trip. Peter, not so much.”

“No?”

“Not really. He gets impatient. With the exception of the occasional trip Upstate to visit the family, he believes there’s no place worth being that you can’t get to on a four-hour flight from JFK.”

“How very pedestrian.”

El chose to ignore the dig.

“Well, I am going to take you somewhere for lunch that Peter will never get to experience if he doesn’t like the road not traveled, if he doesn’t like discovering little treasures in the unlikeliest of places.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza? You, the New Yorkest person I know, is taking me to _Connecticut_ for _pizza_? What has the world come to?”

“Not just pizza, Pepe’s Pizza. Trust me. It is the New Yorkest pizza you’ll ever find.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes, we will. But first, we shop.”

And they did. Stopping in antique shop after antique shop throughout Fairfield and New Haven County. By the time they checked into their quaint, extremely New England B&B, a short walk from the Yale campus, they were exhausted. So they got their pizza to go and shared it in El’s room, with a bottle of red for Mozzie and _European Vacation_ on Netflix.

At the end of the evening, El agreed that _Vacation_ far exceeded all its predecessors, which all had their merits. And also, she conceded, that Pepe’s really was the very best pizza she’d ever had. Though she begged him to take that secret confession to his grave.

“But you know what this means?” El asked as they were driving back to New York. “What it means to introduce new and delicious things to a pregnant lady? It means I will be calling you at two in the morning on some random Wednesday _demanding_ Pepe’s.”

“Any time you want to go.”

She rubbed her belly. “Road trips with Uncle Mozz… that sounds nice.”

His cheeks reddened. And as he pulled up to the Burke’s home, he reached back and grabbed something from his antique shopping stash. “Well, if Jr. Suit is going to hit the road with us, they’ll need their very own suitcase.” 

He handed her a tiny, vintage suitcase. “It already has a head start on the memorabilia,” he said, pointing at the equally vintage postcard-size stickers, “but we’ll get more on our travels.”

El covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, Mozz.”

Now he was really embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s very… sweet.”

“Well, let’s take that secret to our grave as well, shall we?”

“Won’t tell a soul,” she answered, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.


End file.
